


Scared of the Dark

by AnaSophos



Series: The Shacklebolt Chronicles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Audrey Shacklebolt, Cressida Meadowes, Drama, F/M, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Lucas Shacklebolt, Oria Shacklebolt, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaSophos/pseuds/AnaSophos
Summary: He hadn’t meant to do it, the first time it had happened. Everything just… pressed down on him. Life forced him into it, Percy kept telling himself. It had been one of the few actions that he had done with absolutely no thought to the future. No planning. But all of a sudden, the weeping muggleborn sitting across from him was his third cousin once removed—you have Great Aunt Muriel to thank for that, always so secretive about her cousins abroad. Percy had had a panic attack later that night and hadn’t slept a wink. What had he done?The next day, he did it again. On purpose, this time, and more meticulous. He didn’t have another panic attack. The insomnia, however, persisted.“Ya gotta face the music, mate. This isn’t a one-man job. You will get caught if you stick it alone. And… we could use someone like you in the Ministry.”
Relationships: Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley
Series: The Shacklebolt Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572490
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. not afraid of the fall

**Author's Note:**

> So... this little plot bunny planted itself in my head and I had to get it out. I definitely want to continue it, but I'm still fleshing out the details as of now, so we'll see how things go timeline-wise. Let me know what you think!

_ 24 October 1997 _

This was all wrong and Percy was approximately ninety-six percent convinced he would end up either in Azkaban or in St. Mungo’s by dawn.

How had he even gotten to this point? Everything had been perfectly fine when he had simply kept his chin up and spoke only in slews of ‘yessir’s and ‘nosir’s. Those were simpler times. Well—maybe not as simple as he had fooled himself into thinking. It had just been easier to pretend they were simple. Easy to work away the days in the Ministry, go through the motions of the same exact dinner with Penny, add yet another unopened letter from Mum to the rapidly growing pile… everything about that was complicated for some subliminal reason, that was true, but Percy had grown into the routine of it all. Routine could fool even the cleverest people into thinking everything was perfectly fine.

Routine had been shattered into a million tiny pieces since the wedding of his brother that he had refused to attend.

Percy wasn’t even sure what his official job title was anymore. He just knew he worked for the Ministry and, for the first time ever, that left a sour taste in his mouth. Penny had abruptly ended things with him—it was easier to leave the wizarding world entirely, just pretend she was a muggle, at the very least while this war was still being waged. Maybe that end had been a long time coming. Percy had felt a troubling amount of nothing about that whole situation, though that might have been because he kept thinking about his sister and brothers.

Of course, he was too proud to actually _go see_ if they were okay.

And then he did… _something_. 

He hadn’t meant to do it, the first time it had happened. Everything just… pressed down on him. _Life_ forced him into it, Percy kept telling himself. Maybe he really was more heartbroken about Penny than he realized. Maybe he felt more than just sour about being stuck in the Ministry. Whatever it was, it weighed on him and pushed his patience to the very edges. And then he hadn’t even realized what he was doing, at the conception of this _something_. Instinctively, he had moved his quill with a careless look on his face and a complete disregard for neatness. It had been one of the few actions that Percy had done with absolutely no thought to the future. No planning. But all of a sudden, the weeping muggleborn sitting across from him was his third cousin once removed—you have Great Aunt Muriel to thank for that, always so secretive about her cousins abroad.

The woman was thin, her blonde hair wispy and her face gaunt and thin, but she had offered Percy a shaky smile and a sob before proudly presenting her Ministry-approved family tree to the Death Eater waiting on her. Percy had had a panic attack later that night and hadn’t slept a wink. What had he _done_?

The next day, he did it again. On purpose, this time, and more meticulous. He had thought it out, as Percy did all things, and it would be a great deal more foolproof and credible. Yes, he had perfected this system.

He didn’t have another panic attack. The insomnia, however, persisted.

So Percy did more. If he couldn’t sleep, he had to at least be productive. He had to wash the stink of the Ministry off of himself somehow. If guilt had a smell, that would be it. Percy had never felt extremely guilty, not even when his brothers kept telling him it was the only thing he _should_ have been feeling. It wasn’t an emotion with which he wanted to be acquainted.

He had always been the observant type, someone that prided himself on knowing the ins and outs of everything. There were places where the muggleborns would gather, places that were safe, even if only for a few days. When Percy couldn’t sleep, he would try to help in whatever way he could. 

At first, people had been apprehensive about his presence. Then Percy had started showing up in denim trousers instead of his work robes and that had helped.

And now… oh, gods above, the reality of it all was starting to crush him a bit. Cool, Calm Collected Percy Weasley was slipping away with each second he kept staring at the ominous, cryptic invite in his hands. It had been a pain to even decode, but he had gotten it in the end.

_The day of Odin’s wife_  
_At Artemis’ twilight  
_ _In the office of the pyrotechnic healer_

The note had appeared on his desk in a sealed Ministry envelope, along with the scribbled note ‘you should be clever enough, Weasley.’ For once, the mythology they had learned in Astronomy class had been put to good use. Percy had recalled the legends of Frigg and Odin, how the day ‘Friday’ came to be. Any fool knew Artemis was the goddess of the night. And the last line…

Well, it was only thanks to Fred and George that he knew it referred to Dr Filibuster’s Fireworks.

Decisively, Percy crumpled the note in his hand and glanced around the dusk-lit street. The air smelled of an oncoming rain, not unusual weather for this time of year, though certainly not welcome. It was a stifling quiet—all of the streets became eerily empty once the sun started to go down nowadays. Anyone with a sane head on their shoulders was scared to be caught out alone after dark. The brief, rational thought that it could all be a trap, that the Death Eaters had caught onto him all this time and decided to lay a trap that would stroke his ego a little, occurred to him as his other hand wrapped around the cold doorknob.

That thought was gone by the time he crossed the threshold.

The bell above him jingled as the door opened and closed, followed by a silence that filled the empty shop. Percy glanced around with a confused frown, a slight panic setting in before he quickly decided that that was _ridiculous_. He had already committed, it was too late to panic now. What sort of bloody Gryffindor was he? So he lifted his chin slightly, took a few slow steps forward, and continue to look around.

“Hello?” he called out.

Maybe he had gotten the invite wrong.

The jangle of a bead curtain and the sound of footsteps drew Percy’s attention to a sharp focus and eliminated all doubt that had set in his mind. His eyes landed near the cash register, where a woman now stood with a friendly smile on her face. She had dark, curly hair piled high on her head and brown eyes that settled on him with a scrutinizing focus that conflicted her easy grin.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she spoke once their eyes met, a thick Scottish accent coming out. It was startling, much bigger than her body. From her short stature and pristine posture, he had expected something a little more soft and southern. “Can I help you find anything?”

_Fuck_. The note didn’t say anything about _this_. Percy’s eyes shifted to the woman’s forearm for a second before focusing back on her face. There was no Mark, not that he could see, anyways. She was small, and thin—though that was more of a guess based on the way her baggy tee with shimmering block letters reading ‘WEIRD SISTERS 1995: HIPPOGRIFF ON FIRE TOUR’ billowed about her frame.

“I would like to…” Percy trailed off, slowly stepping toward the cash register as he glanced around the shop in the hopes of a _hint_ of some sort. Finally reaching the counter and running out of stalling time, he met the woman’s eyes once more and gulped. Well, he wasn’t a Gryffindor if he didn’t at least _try_. “To see the… _healer_.”

The woman only raised an eyebrow at him, her expression otherwise unchanging, and the space in between them filled with a deafening silence as she continue to pierce through him with her sharp gaze.

And then she snorted out a laugh, a hand going to her mouth.

“Oh, gods, Weasley—you’re _funny_.”

Percy’s face dropped as he blinked far too many times. “Wh—what?”

The woman only shook her head and let out a sigh, then moved towards the doorway behind the counter that was shrouded by a bead curtain. She pulled the curtain aside, revealing a tiny broom closet. “In ya go, Weasley. Don’t worry—you’ve been approved for passage,” she said with a nod towards the small space.

“That’s a broom closet,” Percy stated simply, finally getting over the initial shock of the woman’s reaction. She was young, he realized the longer he stared at her. Probably similar to him in age. Was he young? He certainly didn’t feel it.

“What? Scared of cleaning supplies?” the woman challenged with a smirk.

“ _No_. No, I just—” Percy cut himself off and sighed, then moved around the counter and stopped in front of the woman, spreading his arms out in exasperation. “All right? In I go.”

One step in and Percy felt as if he had just been shoved into the lake back at Hogwarts, in the middle of winter. There was a cold and wet feeling that sank into his bones. He tried to move faster and faster, but whatever was wrapped around him was not allowing him to change his speed any which way. It felt like an eternity until, finally, warmth started to spread up through his body, from his feet to his legs, his chest, until he was stumbling forward uncontrollably.

Once Percy managed to regain his balance, he finally paused to look around again, his jaw slowly dropping as he took in his surroundings. _How…?_

A light tap under his chin snapped him back to reality and Percy glanced down at the source of the tap. “Don’t want any pixies flying in, do ya?” the woman teased with a smirk before walking past him, the implication that Percy should follow left to his imagination.

Beyond the bead curtain was more than just a broom closet. The place was… _massive_. Percy figured this level of magic had to be on par with the Room of Requirement. They had entered through some foyer of sort, that much was evident. It seemed to be decorated like any house, hardwood floors covered in rugs that vaguely reminded him of home and tacky wallpaper that reminded him of Muriel. It was evidently lived in, candles were floating above them lighting the place well and the sound of conversation filled the space. Something vaguely smelling of shepherd’s pie made his stomach grumble.

The woman took a sharp turn through a doorway to their left and Percy quickly changed course to follow her into a room that was decorated like a living room. He kept glancing around like he was a tourist in a theme park, nearly running into the small woman where she had stopped. Percy cleared his throat nervously, stopping just a bit behind her, and settled his gaze ahead.

He quickly froze in place after that.

“Now, Weasley, you should know the matter of inviting you was a bit divided, as you might be able to tell by the familiarity of some of the faces, but majority rules,” the woman’s voice echoed in his ears. “After Mary’s little anecdote, you sorta became a sure thing.”

Percy _did_ recognize faces. It was somewhat calming to know that this wasn’t some intricate Death Eater trap, thank Merlin and Morgana, but now a new sort of panic was setting in. He recognized Mary Cattermole, from her rather traumatizing visit to the Ministry—a visit _he_ had handled, sending her and her husband well on their way. There were some other faces of muggleborns that had passed through his office, but there were also faces from _Hogwarts_. The Haywood sisters, Roger Davies…

“Kneazle got your tongue, mate?” a familiarly strong Scottish brogue spoke, drawing Percy’s attention to the one face he had been avoiding: his former dorm mate, Oliver Wood. Someone that had been his closest friend, against all odds, before they had graduated from Hogwarts.

“I… um…” Percy started slowly, his voice tapering off, before he shook his head and muttered, “I think I need to sit down.”

“Aye,” the woman agreed, moving around Percy to pull a chair out and set it down behind him. He muttered a thanks as he sat down into it with a heavy sigh.

“Auds, you wanna give him the rundown?” Oliver spoke once again.

“Sure,” the woman replied, moving around the room to sit on the arm of a couch, facing Percy. 

A certain gravity filled the room, everyone else falling silent. Even the rest of the conversation around the house, the chatter of voices that Percy could hardly make out, seemed to dim. All of the attention—too much of it—was focused on him and the woman with the wild curls. The warmth was gone from her face now, replaced by a severity and seriousness that seemed to better match the times they lived in.

“Here’s the sitch, Weasley. Some of us were left in difficult situations when shite hit the fan. Not all of us were or are… capable of fighting the old-fashioned way,” she started. “Most of us just need to survive. Mary’s husband works in the Ministry, Wood here had to help some muggleborn teammates when Bodmin Moor was ambushed, leaving him a fugitive. We all still need to _eat_. So, here, we do what we can with the positions we have.

“We’ve gotten a lot of muggleborns out of the country, relocated some to safehouses so muggle a purist prick would never _dare_ … but you, Percy, would be a valuable addition,” the woman—Auds, Oliver had called her—continued. “Ya gotta face the music, mate. This isn’t a one-man job. You _will_ get caught if you stick it alone. And… we could use someone like you in the Ministry.”

The room filled with silence after that, many pairs of eyes fixed on Percy in anticipation. The words swam around in his head. In some ways, it was exactly what he had been expecting, and in others, he felt completely caught off-guard. It wasn’t the _safe_ move by any means, but neither was the first time—and every time after that—he had committed fraud to help a muggleborn.

“He won’t do it,” Davies piped up with a roll of his eyes. “Is Lucas around? We’ll need an Obliviator.”

Percy sharply turned towards Davies, his eyes narrowed and a fire roaring inside him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Fuelled by anger, and perhaps a bit of spite, he slowly turned to face the woman named Auds. The same scrutinizing gaze from earlier was back, focused solely on him with an intensity that made him feel somewhat self-conscious. Percy pushed that down, though, and slowly began to nod. 

“Count me in.”

Quicker than the eyes could see, that same smirk was back on the woman’s face. She stood up, rocking back and forth on her heels for a moment before stepping towards him and extending a hand. “In that case, pleasure to meet you, Percy. Name’s Audrey, but ya can call me Auds.”


	2. i'm not running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Audrey reflects on the events that pulled her back towards the wizarding world in spite of the war that was being waged and finds herself empathizing with the newest recruit of her group's safehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've planned it all out and this story should span over 14 chapters! I also have other works in my mind that will fit into the same timeline (shhh).
> 
> Enjoy!

Audrey had moved out of her family home as soon as humanly possible.

That isn’t to say that she hated the place. She loved her parents, her brother, and her aunts and uncles and cousins. She loved Scotland. She loved the little garden her mum tended to every morning. It was a beautiful place in many ways. Audrey feeling a desire to leave, though, stemmed more from an inevitability, rather than a cruelty, of simply not belonging in the ancestral home of the Shacklebolt family.

Sometimes, her family tried too hard to make her feel as if she was _just like them_. The reality was, though, that she was very different—and very scared to be ashamed of that. Why should she belong to one world or another, instead of being a part of both?

After all, there was something uniquely magical _and_ muggle about squibs.

Audrey wanted to go to school at King’s College, but work part-time at Fortescue’s. She wanted to have a flat in muggle London, but have a Floo connected directly to her parents’ living room for those weeks when she _really_ didn't want to do her laundry. Wine tasting with her classmates was all well and good, but sometimes nothing was quite as good as a mug of butterbeer. Her dingy studio may have been a bit tight on space, but Audrey was not above bribing her brother into casting a few space-saving charms on the place.

She really didn’t think it was that complicated. The rest of the world, however, did not seem to be quite on the same page in that matter.

Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t extremely trying and disappointing to be the middle sibling to two very competent magical people. Audrey would not lie to herself and say that the fear of missing out hadn’t hit her hard when Lucas and Oria had gone to Hogwarts, but it was something she had learned to cope with as she got older. The more time she spent in the muggle world, the more she learned that it wasn’t really an _absence_ of magic… it was just something entirely different. Something with its own unique brand of excitement, and more than enough similarities to the magical world.

The only trying part about being a squib was getting stuck between worlds.

It was easy to escape to the muggle world sometimes. Of course, it had its own problems, its own catastrophes, its own villains… and despite that, it was still an escape from the atrocities that happened in the wizarding world. It had been a piece of cake when Audrey had finished nursing school to just… become extremely busy with work. Yes, very important to climb that seniority ladder, put in the hours and whatnot. Long days in the A&E were infinitely better than facing the truth of You-Know-Who’s return—someone that was practically a fairytale to Audrey. A scary story of the past that her parents brought out when they looked back on the grim old days.

Audrey had been perfectly content with blocking out that world and taking overtime shift after overtime shift… until Oria had gotten hurt.

Her little sister was an Auror trainee and had been in the Ministry of Magic the day it had fallen to the Death Eaters. She had been bloodied and scarred, and all Audrey could _clearly_ remember from that day was the extremely heavy guilt that weighed on her shoulders as she sat in St. Mungo’s and waited to see her sister.

Audrey had been through all of the stupid little excuses at that point. It technically wasn’t even her world. She had a career to worry about. She was useless in that fight without her magic, anyways—why give the purists _one more_ reason to hate her family? But that day… that day, Audrey had accepted that she had stayed away long enough. Her selfishness needed to take a back seat. There _had_ to be something she could do to… to…

Not _win_. But… shift the tides, maybe. She had to have _something_ to offer.

As it turned out, Audrey’s medical knowledge was actually quite valuable. As curfews sprung up and Death Eater control increased, along came more monitoring of wand usage. It was good to have someone on hand that was trained to heal without magic. Even better considering that Audrey had grown up on her parents’ very magical library, and knew the ins and outs of magical plants and potions as well as any witch. 

People that had just survived Death Eaters also tended to respond better to someone trying to heal them _without_ raising a wand. 

Audrey had enough connections in the magical world that she was able to find—and help—people that couldn’t quite take up arms with the Order. People that were more hurt and in pain than they were angry. Especially people that had bounties on their heads practically guaranteeing death. With her siblings’ help, they managed to put together a little refuge. A place where people could come and be safe, unexpected to be a soldier. It helped that Audrey herself still had an entirely normal life outside of the wizarding world, as far as any muggle knew, so they had some sort of income streaming in to maintain it all.

And then, the stories started streaming in.

More and more of the muggleborns that sought them out—mostly due to whispered rumours of a no-strings-attached safe haven—told stories of how they narrowly escaped imprisonment because of the help they received from a Ministry employee. Those that didn’t know him all cited the same description, and those that did all cited the same name: Percy Weasley.

As far as Audrey had been concerned, he sounded like a valuable addition. And yet, contention had been strong when she had first mentioned his name.

_“_ **_No_ ** _. No way, Auds. Must be a fluke,” Oliver insisted. “Maybe, once upon a time… but Percy Weasley **now** is only watching out for himself.”_

_“You sound a little chapped, mate. Sure you’re not biased?” Audrey shot back with a raised eyebrow._

_“I’m experienced.”_

_“And_ **_I’m_ ** _objective. Never met the man.”_

_A beat of silence filled the room, cut through by Roger piping up. “I mean… he’s certainly a right prat, but_ **_if_ ** _this is all true…”_

_“It is,” Mary supported with an eager nod. “He—the boy needs help, he’ll get the Dementor's Kiss if he keeps going it alone. And you’ve been helping more of us muggleborns than ever before, thanks to him.”_

_Audrey slowly moved her gaze back to Oliver, a challenging expression on her face. She had known him for most of her life and knew exactly when Oliver was on the verge of making a decision. He let out a dejected sigh and slowly nodded. “Fine. But don’t have your expectations too high.”_

_“We’ll keep Lucas on call,” Roger suggested, only half joking. Audrey’s older brother was an Obliviator, but she really didn’t think it would come to that._

And she had been bloody right, thank you very much.

Audrey stood in front of Percy, an expectant gaze on her face as her arm was extended in front of her, awaiting a handshake. Her focus was unfaltering as he stood up, nervous expression on his face, and shook her hand. There was some uncertainty in it, Audrey could tell, though fear was never a bad thing. Fear meant you were alive and sane.

“Well—I’ll get that coffee cake we’ve been keeping in the pantry to celebrate our newest addition,” Audrey declared, a smile twitching onto her face. “Anyone want a cuppa?”

She took note of who piped up in agreement as she let go of Percy’s hand and sharply turned on her heel, heading towards the kitchen. It was a small space, all in all, but it had everything they needed to keep things running. Someone had made a massive shepherd’s pie earlier in the day and kept it steaming with a warming charm—probably Cressida, if Audrey had to take a wild guess. The young Meadowes tended to monopolize the kitchen whenever she had time to stop by, and often left enough food to feed an army.

Audrey stood on the tips of her toes to reach for the teapot and cups in one of the higher up cupboards, filled and set the kettle on the burner, arranged the teacups with some tea leaves. All very mundane motions for such… very non-mundane times. It was peaceful, to be able to just make a pot of tea. Almost made it feel like things were perfectly fine. As if she would see her father again over the weekend and they would all get together over a perfect Sunday roast. 

She was so drawn into her thoughts that she hadn’t heard the footsteps until a voice crashed through her mind like glass breaking.

Audrey’s head snapped up and towards the source of the voice, the tension in her shoulders dissipating with a sigh as soon as she recognized Percy.

“Sorry, um… I was completely out of it. What did you say?” Audrey asked as she moved across the kitchen to the small pantry to grab the coffee cake.

“Oh, uh—“ Percy stuttered for a moment, as if his thoughts had completely fallen out of his head, before finally replying, “I was saying there’s a handy little tea-making spell, very intricate. One wave, though, and it sets the whole thing up. Uh, if you were interested, I mean.”

Audrey’s steps slowed down as she reached her original spot, a the tiny kitchen island. Percy was directly across from her, his hands folded together behind his back, though she could tell through the tiny twitches in his shoulders that he was fidgeting like mad.

An amused smirk appeared on her face as she replied, “Oh, I would be— _terribly_ interested,” she replied, “assuming, you know, I could perform magic.”

Percy’s jaw dropped and snapped up, making him look like a very flustered fish out of water. A hand dragged down the side of his face as he stammered out, “Oh, Merlin, no—I didn’t mean to—well, you know, _assume_ —and it is perfectly acceptable to be, you know—”

“A squib?” Audrey interjected, the same amused smile on her face. Percy’s face turned a bright shade of red as a deafening silence filled the space between them. Audrey cut through it with a light laugh. “Are you always this nervous, Percy? Might be a bit of a weakness, contextually speaking.”

“Well, no, I—” Cutting himself off, Percy paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Opening his eyes once again, he met Audrey’s gaze. She still had that amused smile on her face, though now there was a curiosity in her eyes. “I’m sorry. This was… quite rude of me. I really just came in here to see if you wanted any help— _not_ because you’re a squib, just… you know, out of politeness.”

A kinder smile appeared on Audrey’s face at his words, one that almost made Percy sigh in relief. At work, Percy was confident. He was aloof. It was, after all, his playing field. But this… this felt very much like Audrey’s area, and he kept feeling like someone that wasn’t shaping up to expectations. It was like bloody Ancient Runes class all over again.

“I would appreciate that,” Audrey replied after a pause. She noticed Percy’s shoulders fall, a sense of relief replacing some of the tension. “Oh, but before I forget—”

Turning around sharply, Audrey made her way back to the pantry, pushing aside a bag of sugar to reveal the wall paper behind it. She gingerly peeled it back, revealing a little compartment in the wall that she gently pulled open. Inside, there were little trinkets. More than trinkets, really, but… hopefully they would never need to use them. Surveying the options for a moment, Audrey picked out a small locket hanging on a thin chain and returned to the kitchen where Percy was waiting. She extended her arm across the kitchen island, the locket dangling in her grasp.

“This is yours,” Audrey said as she glanced up at him.

Frowning, Percy slowly reached out and accepted the locket, scrutinizing it for a moment before looking back up at Audrey. “What for?”

“Hopefully, nothing,” she replied, “but if you ever have to use it, I’ll make sure you know.”

“That’s not very helpful.”  


“Speaking of helpful,” Audrey said, nodding towards the whistling kettle and turning her back on him once more.

* * *

“That’s the last of it,” Oliver stated, setting the teacups and plates by the kitchen sink. “You sure you don’t want me to…” he trailed off, swishing his hand around to indicate using his wand.

Audrey shook her head with a laugh, “No, no, it’s weirdly calming to do them by hand.”

“Whatever ya say, weirdo,” Oliver replied. “So… Percy’s officially in.”

Audrey paused, then set down the dishes in her hands to turn and fully face Oliver. She had seen this conversation coming, at some point after the official _meeting_. Her and Oliver had been childhood friends, only a couple years apart in age and a couple houses apart in distance. Audrey constantly lorded her two years seniority over him, Oliver would always brag about his supposed athletic skills. His mum was a muggle, though, so it was easy for the two of them to get along, and it was nice to have a friend that wasn’t so… sensitive about her being a squib. People tended to act like it was a curse.

“You don’t sound optimistic,” Audrey observed, a challenging look in her eyes as she focused on Oliver.

“Don’t do that. That whole… intimidation stare.”

“Me? Intimidating?” Audrey asked with faux shock. “Seriously. Stop beating around the bush about this. What’s on your mind?”

Oliver sighed and paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before finally answering, “He’s a good bloke, really. He just… when it came down to it, he watched after his own backbone. That bloody sucked, you know? I mean—he just pretended _none_ of this existed!”

“Sort of how I haven’t talked to my own father since the new year?” Audrey countered.

“That’s different,” Oliver insisted.

“Right, because I’m weak and defenseless, so it’s okay if I’m scared of my own shadow,” Audrey shot back sarcastically.

“That is _not_ —”

“Not what you meant, I know,” Audrey interrupted, “but you can’t judge people for what they do when they’re scared. Judge them on what they do _in spite_ of their fear. Maybe it's time you mend some bridges.”

Oliver let out a scoff, but a small smile started to creep onto his face. “Bloody voice of reason.”

Audrey simply gave him a shrug, though there was a proud smirk on her face. She knew there was a risk in this, there was so much _she_ didn't even know... but at the same time, wars weren't won just by sitting around and hoping for the best.


End file.
